


Prolog im Himmel

by aerlinniel



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Skyrim Fusion, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Be Careful What You Wish For, Creature Fic, Creature Harry, Faustian Bargain, M/M, Past Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Pre-Slash, Wishes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-16
Updated: 2017-03-16
Packaged: 2018-10-06 03:29:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10324619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aerlinniel/pseuds/aerlinniel
Summary: Unable to accept the nearing death of his family, Harry wishes for the power to save them. Except that things don't always go as planned, and Harry finds himself cursed with effects he didn't intend, desperate to survive and preserve his humanity. By the time Albus Dumbledore offers Harry a cure in exchange for the capture of a certain Tom Riddle, Harry can't say no.





	

**_“Yet now I curse whate'er entices_ **

**_And snares the soul with visions vain;_ **

**_With dazzling cheats and dear devices_ **

**_Confines it in this cave of pain!_ **

**_Cursed be, at once, the high ambition_ **

**_Wherewith the mind itself deludes!_ **

**_Cursed be the glare of apparition_ **

**_That on the finer sense intrudes!_ **

**_Cursed be the lying dream's impression_ **

**_Of name, and fame, and laurelled brow!_ **

**_Cursed, all that flatters as possession,_ **

**_As wife and child, as knave and plow!”_ **

**_(-Goethe’s Faust.)_ **

* * *

_Drip drop._

_There are footsteps and distant shouts. A darkness follows behind._

_Drip drop._

_It’s an endless plain. An eternity of plains and meadows, floating atop the sky beneath._

_Drip drop._

_This is the last chance he’s got._

 

_[“He’s almost dead, won’t last long. Wounded too badly, bleeding too quickly. He won’t last the hour.”_

_“This wasn’t supposed to go this way; we weren’t supposed to go this far.”_

_“What could we do otherwise? He was about to–”_

_“It’s all gone wrong, so wrong. What will we–”]_

 

_Drip drop._

_He remembers a question; the uttering of a wish. He remembers smiling and a Daedra’s laughs. Plains turning to snow and ice with a burst of red glass._

_Drip drop._

_“We have a bargain, little hero”_

_He dreams himself waking._

 

*    *    *

_Drip drop, it goes. Drip drop, it keeps going._

_He opens his eyes, and isn’t sure what it was that he was doing. Doesn’t know anything but the sight of darkness, ice, and snow. He sees a pentagram around him, a thick mixture poured within. Hist sap and amber, blood and a unicorn’s horn…_

_A smile and a thousand steps, bare skin is against the snow. He’s not sure of his name._

_Drip drop, it goes, drip drop._

_He keeps walking, too. Hears rain, but doesn’t feel it. Sees, but feels no sunshine or cold. He keeps walking, step after step, not knowing where to go. He leaves the pentagram behind. There is carnage all around him. He feels a strange thirst._

_Drip drop. Time seems irrelevant and meaningless. He doesn’t know how long he’s slept; how long he’s been here. Fresh air fills his lungs. There is an opening before him. He runs and sees a stone bridge leading to it._

_Drip, drip._

_He burns and the light blinds him, making him run back inside. It only stops when the two moons appear in the clear night sky. By then he knows his name and that of the cave behind him._

_He has succeeded, and his wish granted._

 

* * *

**_“…who are you, then?”_ **

**_“I am part of that power which eternally wills evil and eternally works good.”_ **

**_(-Goethe’s Faust.)_** ****

* * *

 

He had first heard his name from the lips of the very arch mage of the College of Winterhold.

“Tom Marvolo Riddle?” Harry asked, “is that the person I must find?”

The genial old arch mage of the Winterhold College nodded at him, a smile appearing on his face. Albus Dumbledore – a living legend in the study of magic. The very man that had defeated Grindelwald.

Three other teachers at the College were with them inside the room – a woman and two men. The room itself was filled with all manner of artifacts, trinkets, and books; both open and closed. A detailed map of Tamriel covered a side of the wall, and in front of it, a view of the recently-ruined city of Winterhold.         

“What has he done?”

The old wizard observed him for a few seconds before replying.

“Tom is…” he started, stopping to think.

One of the teachers at the college, a certain Minerva McGonagall, frowned worriedly at the start of the phrase. Another one, Alastor Moody, looked furious at the sole mention of the man’s name. Harry remained silent, and though curious awaited the arch mage to continue.

“He was one of our most promising students, but we were forced to expel him,” Dumbledore explained. A certain sadness was visible in his expression. “He’s been involved with… Well, we need him to put a stop to his experiments.”

“Expulsion? What could have he done that is bad enough to merit that?” Harry exclaimed, giving voice to his curiosity. “The College is usually lenient, isn’t it?”

The other male teacher, who had introduced himself as Horace Slughorn, looked down with apparent regret; and the arch mage gave him a sad smile.

Ah, so that was it. Daedras and forbidden knowledge.

He had to admit it was ironic.

“I’ll take care of it.”

The four wizards smiled.

 

*    *    *

  

He felt the fires being lit, and just with that, he knew.

Harry plunged through the narrow alleyways, worn leather boots meandering and stepping on the slush, the wet wood, the mud, breathing rasping in his chest, blood thumping in his head. He stumbled and sprawled onto his right, nearly falling through a collapsed section of the makeshift pinewood platform covering the ground, laid there painting, peering at the still water below through the broken floor.

Remus had been with him until hours before, until they had gotten separated upon nearing the village. The plan itself had been good. Remus had hidden himself in preparation of the full moon, and Harry had entered the known village in search of a man he had only heard rumours and stories about. It was easy to enter a town in the middle of the night, more so an almost-village without any protective walls, and there hadn’t supposed to have been any problems. It’d be easier to find his target and find something to feed on if he could roam the alleyways without any surprises or guards. At least, until he had been accidentally found.

Not that there was any sign of him now. Some plan, this was, falling apart like it had. The guards of the town still hadn’t caught up with him, but the frantic sounds of movement in the distance told Harry everything he needed to know.

He had been caught, or well, not yet, exactly. Just noticed.

Harry could hear them running through the main streets. His nose full of the smell of them amidst the foul stench of the streets. Fires had been lit, and parties had started to be organised to find him.

Harry slowly crept onto his feet, movements silent. One of the floorboard creaked, and he whipped around. There was an arrow coming straight at him. A sharp-looking thing aimed straight at his head, a guard at its other end.

Harry threw himself to one side, slipped, and fell on his face. The arrow struck wood.

Harry rolled towards the edge of the platform and onto the mud below, expecting an arrow through his back at any moment. He scrambled up, breathing heavy. Mud stuck to his robes, dampening and dirtying the cloth. A bow tensed.

He lunged forward and slid beneath the pinewood platform, raising his wand and casting a quick disillusionment spell. A glow lit the mud beneath as energy, summoned, enveloped him. Magic cracked through the air. The glow got stronger.

He had to find the wizard whilst the cover of the night lasted. If not, finding the mysterious man again could potentially take months, if not years.

Harry inhaled slowly, and felt himself take the colour and texture of the things around him. He pressed forward, making sure he didn’t step on the water. Still, there was no way to avoid leaving footprints on the mud. If the guards were apt enough to spot him with his disillusionment charm he’d have to crawl beneath the platform and rely on it for cover. Sneaking and misdirection he’d rely on once he had found the other mage, once he had more time.

He eyed the platform above, spotting the guard which had shot at him.  _‘Tall, pale, hard eyes. Most likely a Nord,’_   he thought.

The man looked weary and frightened, he was looking for him. He’d spot him or alert any allies if Harry wasn’t careful. 

Harry exhaled, directing himself towards the man whilst stepping over and avoiding the stagnant puddles and rocks. He wouldn’t risk slipping or giving his location away fully. Harry raised his wand, and muttered a spell. Pale energy gathered, and magic cracked through the air again. He aimed at the Nord. The magic left the wand and hit the man full on, causing him to fall onto the ground petrified. 

Harry relaxed and looked around as he stepped once again on the platform. Light was dim in the alleys, and only the light of the moons gave any hints of his surroundings. He spotted a particularly empty-looking street and made a dash for it, he’d need to hide until things calmed down and he could return to attempting to find the man. He lunged towards the empty area, keeping himself unseen with the disillusionment spell and hid to a side of it, beneath the portal to an old-looking house. He crouched, almost wishing himself to become a part of the shadows and darkness.

The cold winter air blew strong, and Harry hid a grimace. His clothes felt dirty and cold. His worn black boots were coated in a mud that had soiled and further stained his robes. It was hard to even imagine that they had all been elegant and new once upon a time, before they had been worn away badly by time and nature. 

He had deliberately waited until the two moons had risen high up in the night’s sky before making his daring entrance into Dawnstar. Even being a master at illusion magic and sneaking wouldn’t save him from what awaited him were he to get caught. It had been three days since he had last even seen a human, and he never had dared to so much as touch Remus, no matter what the kind-hearted werewolf offered for sustenance.

The night was cold around him, its air cold and moist, though he didn’t really feel it. It was winter still, and no green or warmth could be felt or seen outside. The town’s streets had been completely empty and deserted except from a guard on duty or two, both due to the darkness the night brought and the cold winds of winter. The smell of rain hung heavily over the town, and blackened puddles of rainwater lingered in the soaked-through mud.

It was late, way past the time for people to stay either outside or awake. Not a soul could be seen in the deserted streets, with only beggars remaining within them. Harry had found himself in a pensive mood, lost in the past as he found himself within the streets of the familiar village. Things had changed, and how thoroughly. Dawnstar. This had been his home, once, before the inhuman thirst and hunger. 

It was a strange thought.

It wasn’t exactly the best of times to remember, but with the familiar surroundings he couldn’t exactly help it. He had remained away from civilisation for too long, and was surprised to see how much the village had changed through the years. New houses had sprung up, as proud owners wishing to establish themselves settled themselves into the ancient village. Clothing styles had changed and evolved, no longer the same as those Harry remembered in his youth, and only he seemed to have remained frozen in time. Appearance worn and young despite all the change around him, the clothes he wore similarly frozen in time.

He was sure that if he let himself, he’d be able to find his old family home. Perhaps it’d still even be occupied by his cousins and their sons and grandsons. Perhaps even by his parents, if they were still alive. It had been far too long, it had all occurred too long ago already. Decades had gone past and he barely felt them except when looking at how the world had changed.

It had all started with a wish, then. Noble, urgent, and pure. It almost pained him to remember, despite the good that it had done.

Then there had once been carnage around him after he had first awoken up from his sleep. Red and silence and darkness. Without a single fire lit inside the strange cave he had been taken into with his family by the bandits that had captured them.

It had all started with a wish – one of power. Granted to him by the very Clavicus Vile, the Daedric Prince of Trickery and Wishes.

A desperate wish; born from the situation he and his family had found themselves in, and having been faced with the choice of making a bargain with the Daedric Prince, or face the possibility of seeing his family killed and tortured the choice had been clear. A powerful wish, which had pushed him into the strange world in which he currently found himself in. The power he had been granted had allowed him to save his family and put a stop to the violence that had taken hold of Dawnstar. 

It had all started with a curse.

A curse which had taken the sun’s warmth away from him, dooming him to the distrust of those around him. A curse which had granted him a shameful and unwanted immortality, wraith-like. Having turned him into a being reliant only in the violence he could subject others to. A curse and power which, though having allowed him to save his loved ones, had eventually seen him betrayed and abandoned. Degraded into the position of a dark creature without the possibility of redemption.

A cursed wish, which had taken away his humanity and way of being. Stolen the green eyes his mother had gifted him and substituted them with a changed and ugly yellow-red.

Harry felt a sudden pang of bloodlust. His neck felt raw, cracking at the memory of the petrified guard. He gulped saliva down,  _‘it’d be so easy to return and step above and–’_

“No, focus,” he ordered himself. He had to find the man he had been told about and get out of here. He’d feed later, once he had gotten out of the village and its guards. Three days had passed since his last fill, but he could survive another despite the fact that another twenty-four hours without feeding would render him even more inhuman and violent. He’d rather not be caught unaware by the guards, and face discovery unprepared and outnumbered.

Harry stood, feeling a pain in his joints from the extended crouching. Things had calmed again, and the few guards that had been looking for him around the area had likely moved on to other parts of the village.

Harry lunged towards his right, aiming for another side street he hadn’t gone through yet whilst keeping himself to a side of the narrow alleyway and ensuring the spell still cloaked him. He’d be attacked on sight if he was caught, and he wasn’t here to fight. He needed to keep going. Daytime would come in only a few hours, and by then he’d have had to find cover from the light. He’d be able to find or be found by Remus after that.

The side street was even more derelict old than the ones he had been in before, without even a pinewood platform to help the locals avoid the thick mud. Stuck to it, in the middle of the street, were some rotting leaves and food. The houses towering above it dark and empty-looking. He ran through it, turning and entering further ones as he kept advancing.

Now, where could be the house of the wizard he had heard about?

He had been told the man had been living in the area of the village closest to the river, where the houses were grouped together the tightest, but he hadn’t been able to find out more than that. The man was a recluse, and other than the information he had been given he knew nothing, had heard nothing.

Minutes crawled by as he advanced, his speed brought down by the mud, the slush, and the half-formed. He could still again hear the sound of the guards rushing and running around, though it was distant enough that the slower speed didn’t suppose a problem. He allowed himself to walk slower, taking note of his surroundings. The Dawnstar port was now to his right, looking strangely empty, and he knew he had reached the approximate location where he had heard the wizard lived.

His limbs felt slightly numb by the time he felt the magic coming from a certain house. It was dark and heavy, foreboding. It was worn down and the lights inside were out, giving an impression of emptiness and abandon, but the magic surrounding the place told him a different story. No matter how it may look, the house had to have been recently used by a mage of some sort. Harry stopped where he stood, and stared at the building. It was the early hours of the morning, and it was the first place that had caught his attention. He could either find the mage he had heard about, or secure the location to sleep through the day until night came again.

He decided to go inside, it could prove useful either way.

The wooden front door creaked loudly as he stepped inside. He moved effortlessly, still sneaking under his disillusionment charm despite being almost certain that there likely would be no one inside.

The ceiling of the entrance was too low for comfort, and the floor he stepped on was covered a mixture of dirt, scattered parchment, and broken pieces of wood. Trickles of water ran from the sides, downwards to the floor. The air, stagnant, with the sharp smell of mould. Harry’s feet? Numb beyond measure, as were his fingers. He caught the smell of some dead animal, and bloodlust clawed again at his throat. He grimaced with disgust, cursing the three days he had gone without sustenance.

Harry gulped, swallowing more saliva as he kept himself walking.  _‘A few hours and it’ll be gone. I won’t reach a fourth day,’_ he told himself. His throat already felt like hellfire. It’d be torture if he let it reach that point, and just as dangerous with the physical changes it brought about too.

He blinked, shutting his eyes briefly and focusing on the passage before him. He needed to focus on something, distract himself away from his hunger. A wish. More like a curse. Yet this was exactly the power he had asked for in order to free himself back then.

The house was completely dark, but he could still make out some of his surroundings. The corridor, which was almost like a passage, was long and twisted. Narrow, and with not a single lit torch. Harry kept his steps small but quick. Swift and silent. Invisible for all purposes and in all but name, as he hid in the shadows. He took a brief look at the rooms inside, each in as much a state of chaos as the entrance of the house. Harry shook his head, regretting in part having entered the building. It was abandoned, with a second floor in much of the same state as the rest of the building.

“A hiding place for the day,” he muttered, looking around. It wasn’t the best of buildings, but it would serve well as a place to rest and hide in.

He smiled. A positive discovery, if anything. He had already turned to leave, coming to stand almost at the very doorway, when he came to step on a puddle of water.

“That’s odd,” he frowned.

 Harry looked at the walls. The trails of water weren’t a surprise considering the state of the house, but… He looked at the water he had stepped on. The water wasn’t gathering, and instead seemed to be dripping down to somewhere. He smirked, heading back into the house.  _‘Not so abandoned after all then.’_

 Ten minutes and he had located a trap door, unlocked. Harry opened it and descended down a set of steep wooden stairs. The wood in considerably a better state than the rest of the house.

Total darkness. He smiled openly and cast a  _lumos_.

The room that greeted him was as big as the main floor, and in considerably a better state. Bookshelves filled with books surrounded the walls, most titles relating to magic in one form or another, and with a table filled with various magical objects sitting at the very centre. Atop of it, a strange ring made from carved stone and two books – one completely black, and the other…

Harry frowned, stepping closer. It looked familiar, he had seen it before or at least heard about it.

He picked it up, running his fingers over the cover. Leather of five different colours, bound together with–

It couldn’t be, could it? Everyone knew the legends, but…

He had almost grabbed the other book on the table when he heard the front door creaking back open. Quick steps, total silence, and more quick steps.

Harry’s eyes widened,  _‘the trap door!’_

He jumped and ran towards it, dropping the book unceremoniously on the table. He reached it as the book crashed on top some potion vials, but by then a figure was blocking the only exit. 

He felt himself fall before he even heard a spell.

 

*    *    *

_The man lying on the floor was staring at him, bewildered and surprised. “You helped me, why?” He asked. “They were members of the Silver Hand; you must know what I am.”_

_The area around them was mostly empty, just like most of the mountainous areas in Skyrim usually were. The entrance of a cave could be seen nearby, its surroundings composed only of snow, pine trees, and a few rocks. A few armour-clad bodies broke the natural beauty of the area, their silver blades now scattered around the ground._

_Harry observed the man. He was pale and had premature lines, coupled with greying light brown hair and a rough beard. He seemed to be somewhere in his thirties, the group of scars adorning his face making him seem slightly older. “Helping a stranger in need shouldn’t have reasons,” he finally said decisively._

_“I’m a werewolf,” the man simply said._

_It was a good reason, Harry had to give him that. There were multiple ways of being cursed, and lycanthropy was one of the very few that ensured a particularly difficult sort of life._

_Harry ignored him and offered his hand with an easy smile gracing his lips, “you should know know what I am then.”_

_The man smiled, understanding, and took his hand. “Remus Lupin,” he said._

_“Harry Potter.”_

_The werewolf became one of his closest friends over the coming years._

 

*    *    *

 

Harry opened his eyes only to feel a burn. It was bright, too bright, and–

“Your name, thief,” a voice demanded.

Harry almost felt himself hiss, twitching and attempting to move away from the bright light that filled the room. His skin hurt and his throat hurt. Gods, and his eyes–!

“Your name,” the voice demanded again, this time openly harsh, leaving no room for denial. Its tone low and dark. Powerful. He could feel the man’s stare on him and a thread of power in his voice, and Harry knew instinctively that wanted him to look into his eyes.

“Harry Potter,” he barely managed to say, “I am Harry Potter.” Harry grit his teeth, trying to resist in silence the pain the light brought. There wasn’t enough for him to be damaged, but it was still bright enough for him to be able to feel it.

He twisted, Gods, his throat-!

The man only stared at him silently, and Harry wondered whether he was expecting him to reveal anything more, or if he recognised his name. He could feel his head pound and throat burn with thirst. He could barely move at all. He wanted to stand up and fight or run, stand up and attempt to charm his way away from the strange situation that he suddenly had found himself in. He knew he couldn’t. Harry felt nauseous, sick with fear at the knowledge that he couldn’t do anything about this situation.

Who was this person?

He suddenly heard a low incantation and the flick of a wand, followed immediately by a loud creak and finally, darkness.

Harry opened his eyes and sighed, relieved. Looking around him he spotted a silhouette, and managed to get a first glimpse of the man that had surprised him in the hidden basement.

He seemed to be tall, with a handsome sort of regal face, silky brown locks. He was wearing an expensive set of robes, black, with some intricate green and silver designs. His dark eyes, however, were the most noticeable thing about him due to the unnatural red glint that they seemed to possess. Beyond the expensive robes and the man’s physique was a haze of magic power that seemed to saturate his surroundings, and Harry was struck dumb by the way he instantly felt inferior at the other’s display of power. 

“A vampire decides to pay me a visit, hm?” the man asked, and Harry barely managed to contain a shudder. Bad thing, to be caught like this. Being defenseless with his diseased curse meant death.

“None of your business,” Harry instinctively snarled. 

“Oh, come now, none of this nonsense,” the man replied with a pleasant tone of voice, which was only betrayed by the harshness in his eyes. “It’s hardly an unfair question - did you come to feed or to steal something of mine?” he continued. 

Harry couldn’t help but notice then that, though the man wasn’t pointing his wand at him, he was still holding it with a deceptively loose grip.

“I-,” Harry stammered, trying to think of a valid reason for his presence there.

The man stared at him, eyes narrowing at the sight of his eyes, only to smirk immediately. Suddenly getting up and walking slowly towards an old table that sat at a corner of the room they were in. There was a strange bottle sitting on it, and he grabbed it and threw it at Harry.

Harry just barely managed to catch it, and realised immediately what was inside. Eying the bottle, filled up to the brim with the familiar red fluid, with a level of curiosity. He swallowed saliva, bloodlust clawed at his throat, but didn’t open it.

The man gave a lopsided smirk, “it’s blood, nothing more. I’d rather avoid staying in close proximity to a vampire that hasn’t fed in a while.”

Harry nodded, finally opening the bottle. He shivered, the smell was every bit as delicious and intoxicating as he had wished. His throat burned, bloodlust immediately pushing him to drink all of the liquid inside. Closing his eyes again, and allowing himself to relax against the floor.

“I wasn’t looking to feed from you,” ended Harry.

“You weren’t,” the man said flatly, gaze turning to the wooden floor. It didn’t seem like he believed him.

“Nor to steal from you,” Harry added, “I was looking for a place to hide in Dawnstar.” It was technically the truth, but the man didn’t have to know that.

The man stared back at him with a controlled expression, revealing nothing. “Interesting place to choose to hide, vampire.”

Harry gave a roguish grin, “a vampire is common enough to see, but those books you had?” He returned the man’s gaze, and grinned as he felt him poke at his mind, only to be repelled.

The man frowned, “you recognise it then.” 

Harry nodded, “the Oghma Infinium.” He felt a twinge of excitement at seeing the legendary object, “what other book is bound in the skin of each of the elven races? It’s Hermaeus Mora’s very own gift.” He paused to look around him and at the strange house, “what I didn’t expect is to find it here of all places.”

The man raised an eyebrow as an amused smile made its way onto his lips. “I can’t exactly allow you to leave freely then.” Harry wondered if the man had believed a word of what he had said. “I suppose you know who I am?” the man asked.

“Should I?”

The man offered an arrogant smile, and went back to sit down in the chair he had discarded, not saying a thing. Harry waited for him to speak. He seemed to be deep in thought, attempting to decide whether to offer his name or not.

When he spoke again, the words came out quietly and decisively. “Tom Marvolo Riddle.”

Harry couldn’t believe it.

 

*    *    *

The morning following his meeting with Tom Marvolo Riddle, Remus was nowhere to be seen in the agreed meeting point.

Harry had felt his blood freeze – something had gone wrong, terribly wrong.

He scurried inside the hiding place they had found before he had rushed into Dawnstar in the middle of the night just a day before – a rudimentary wooden shack which was well hidden away.

“He should be here, it’s the meeting place we agreed on before separating, where could he be?” Harry muttered, as he observed the abandoned room.

There was a heavy layer of dust on all of the objects inside, bed included, only broken by the prints of a number of footsteps on the floor.  No one had been inside the room until very recently, and by the looks of it there had been some sort of fight.

Harry remained completely still, not quite knowing what to think. There were no clues.

Riddle, standing beside him, only remained silent. Face unreadable.

 

*    *    *

_Harry would sometimes awoke remembering strange dreams, in which a demon and a god made a bet and he tricked into exchanging something he didn’t want to exchange._

_Harry always remembered these dreams, and he thought it strange how more often than not, by the end of the dream, his ambitions were lifeless and he was damned._

 

*    *    *

_It was impossible to miss Remus’ hopeful look. “People say that there is a powerful wizard in Winterhold, Harry, one that can break curses and cure diseases.”_

_“People are often wrong, Remus,” Harry rasped._

_“The most powerful of our age.”_

_Harry looked up at Remus from the book he was reading, “and what about ending granted wishes?”_

 

*    *    *

Tom Marvolo Riddle was the strangest human Harry had ever met.

It wasn’t just because of how easily Riddle had travelled through the freezing wastelands around Dawnstar even at night time, and had managed to rely the entire way on heating spells without tiring out. He then hadn’t been phased by any of the commonly dangerous encounters around those areas. Instead bears, snowy sabre cats, and more had been easily dealt with.

It hadn’t been how he had been the one to first suggest for Harry to tag along with him either, which already was a strange and rare thing by itself in Harry’s experience; or had further continued to give him blood every one or two days as they had travelled after leaving Dawnstar. In fact, over the last days of traveling Harry had been witness to a multiplicity of the man’s odd mannerisms, as well as his apparent nature.

Harry knew that he was charismatic and (covertly) manipulative up to a ridiculous point, a perfect-looking apple with a rotten core. Yet it was almost hard to imagine the man as being the same that Albus Dumbledore had warned him about at the College, the monster that had carried through experiments terrible enough to merit an expulsion. Even when he was reading material of dubious origins and books such as Owle Bullock’s ‘Secrets of the Darkest Art’.

He’d at least admit to have more than a passing curiosity in the books that he’d often see Riddle read after they’d set up camp, even if just for his own personal reasons. Nonetheless, he had never given a voice to his curiosity.

Harry had quickly discovered that Riddle could duel like a hellcat, maintaining an amazing amount of grace when casting anything that didn’t seem humanly possible. He had one of the vastest arsenals of spells, curses, hexes, and charms that Harry had ever seen in someone mortal. Then came the fact that he was as charismatic and manipulative as one could be, even more so than Harry. 

Riddle had remained guarded, though that much was to be expected of anyone who had lived or travelled through Skyrim. He had an air of practiced and arrogant confidence around him, the likes of which revealed no worries at all, even as he kept an eye on his surroundings. His body posture showing nothing but confidence even as he sat. It was hard to imagine he was carrying on him a Daedric artefacts.

A surprising fact considering the stories that circulated about people killing others to obtain Daedric weapons and artifacts. Being the known owner of one more often than not meant having to defend one’s right to own the said object, a fact that often translated to having to be constantly on guard.  He would be on guard even as they walked through empty fields with only snow and ice and slush.

Riddle, however, had kept friendly appearances, though Harry knew that he didn’t trust him one bit. He had been alive for long enough to shed off his youthful naivety and could recognise the fake smiles that the man often gave him. There was a dangerous undercurrent to him, the likes of which he had seen on only a few other select individuals. He was sure that he had never met someone as intelligent and dangerous as him before.

Despite this, Harry continued to travel with the man as he brought up job after job that he could use him in. Making Harry somewhat give in, all whilst being fully aware of what the man was, to the pleasant and casual conversation the man would give, valueless as it was.

He could wait until he finally came to strike. He knew eventually Riddle would let his guard down enough to allow him to do so.

Before him, and across the warm fire, Riddle smiled cordially at him.

  

*    *    *

He first saw the locket around Tom’s neck after a day’s worth of travel, once they had arrived at a small inn close to the mountain range they had cut through in order to get to the southwest of Skyrim and the roads that led to Riften.

It had just been a glimpse, seen as Tom had sat down on one of the beds in the room they had rented for the night, but it had still managed to grab all of his attention: A heavy golden locket with a serpentine S, inlaid with glittering, green stones. Harry could visualise it as a minuscule snake.

It was beautiful.

He never mentioned seeing it, even though he knew Tom had seen him looking at it. The locket was never mentioned again

*    *    *

_“Drink mine, it’ll be easier that way.” The cave was dark, the only light illuminating it being the faint one coming from the fire between them._

_Harry stared blankly at the werewolf. “You’ve done enough for me; I couldn’t accept that.”_

_Remus smiled, a kind expression settling over his features. “I know it’s been two days, and we’re far up enough in the north that it’d take three or four to reach any sort of settlement. Chances are we won’t find anything or anyone other than skeevers or wolves, and that’s without thinking about the snow.”_

_Harry looked at the man that had come to be his friend. He couldn’t bring himself to do it, not to him. Remus Lupin had enough to deal with without him adding more. “Full moon was a day ago, it’s enough of a strain on you.”_

_Remus shook his head, keeping his smile in place._

_Harry felt disgusted with himself, but still agreed._

 

*    *    *

He stood by the window, one hand up on the stone, fingertips drumming, drumming, drumming. Frowning off across Riften. Across the maze of wooden streets, the tangle of steep roof tiles, the crowded market, and steep drops into the Riften canal, the city had turned shiny by the day’s drizzle. The city wore an eerie beauty even as the view into side streets obstructed by thin mist.

“I’ve never liked Riften,” Harry stated. He never had, and he had avoided it plenty over the years. 

Tom hummed noncommittally, eyes focusing on his book as he sat on the wooden chair.

“Too many people, too much wood, too dirty. I’d rather be anywhere else, I already spent too much of it here.”

That seemed to catch Tom’s attention, and he looked up at him briefly, curious. “You lived here?”

Harry turned to him, looking away from the nearby window. “Somewhat, just barely more than a year. Just enough to get to know this place,” Harry replied, thoughtful. “I hadn’t been back in decades.”

It brought back memories. He had been young, then, and Riften had been the only real place to survive during those first years. The tunnels and shady nature of a large part of the city’s dealings had worked in his favour. Having been perfect for a young vampire to both survive and come to terms with what he was.

“Not since I was a young vampire,” Harry muttered contemplatively.

Tom kept his eyes fixed on him for a few moments, but quickly went back to reading his book. He was concentrated, brows slightly furrowed as he examined one of the passages on the page.

They were sitting close together, with only a near-empty table between them, or at least close enough that Harry could easily see all of Tom’s features and expressions. There was a large window besides them, from which Harry had been staring out of ever since they had arrived at ‘The Bee and Barb’. The inn was strangely silent, especially considering the time of the day it was. It was late enough in the afternoon that locals should have already started going in, but there were only a few people inside, scattered across the tables.

Harry turned back to the window, fingertips drumming again.

The Bee and Barb was as dirty as the rest of Riften. It was easy to tell the type of city this was. He couldn’t wait to get out of here. The city brought back too many memories, and not many of them were pleasant. 

Harry let out a sigh, and turned to look at Tom yet again. The view of Riften could only be so interesting, and he was risking remembering things he didn’t want to remember. He hadn’t thought waiting for Tom’s contact would have taken this long, but Tom didn’t seem to be either surprised nor nervous. Perhaps he should have ordered food after all, rather than just a drink some hours before. Brought a book or asked Tom for one of his.

Minutes quickly went by, and by the time the rain had started to fall again a man was walking towards their table. Harry immediately glanced up at him, even as Tom didn’t bother to even do so.

The man seemed to be in his early thirties. Pale, with slightly freckled skin and a mop of fair hair. He was calm, but had an undercurrent of something that Harry couldn’t quite place as the man glances at Tom. Only the brown leather armour the man was wearing gave away the man’s occupation - a thief.

Harry chuckled.

Tom only turned to look by the time he had reached them and the man had bowed with reverence as a way of greeting them.

Harry wasn’t sure what to make of this.

“I thought you’d be alone, master,” the man said, looking at Harry with uncertainty.

Tom remained relaxed, his expression somewhat closed. “He’s a friend I find myself traveling with, Barty. A… business partner, of sorts.”

That seemed to dispel some of the doubts that the man held. He turned again to look at Harry, this time with some surprise and suspicion. He nodded though, trusting Tom, and Harry couldn’t help but wonder about what the relationship between Tom and the contact was. They had to have been business partners, or acquaintances for a quite some time.

An easy smile formed on Harry’s lips, and he stretched out his hand before opting to introduce himself. He looked at Tom briefly before nodding and confirming Tom’s words. Offering then his hand.

“I’m Harry Potter.”

The man repeated the gesture and shook his hand, “Bartemius Crouch.” Still, the suspicion in his face didn’t fully go away. “Any friend of my master is a friend of mine, and a valued business partner.”

Harry smiled, opting to not say anything, and the man turned back towards Tom.

“I assume you’ve got the information I needed, Barty?”

Barty nodded, the corners of his lips turning slightly upwards. “It wasn’t easy to find, but I do.”

Tom smiled gently, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “It mustn’t have been easy to find.”

“Not at all,” Barty said, smirking. “Perhaps it took me a bit longer than I expected, but it was easy to get in the end.”

Tom looked visibly pleased to hear this, and he nodded, eating Barty to continue.

“I can’t think of a better artifact to go after,” Barty started to say. He glanced around. “the Eyes of the Falmer are legendary,” he breathed, lowering his voice.

“Did you find their exact location?”

He smiled, nodding. Harry leaned forward without thinking, interested. The Eyes of the Falmer were as legendary as any jewel could possibly hope to be. Both due to their origin, historical significance, and size.

“They are in the depths of Irkngthand, the Dwemer ruin. West of Windhelm and south of Yorgrim Overlook. However, there are stories of another entrance if approaching northeast from Shearpoint.”

Tom nodded. It was well hidden, but Harry could see the ghost of a smile forming. His dark eyes looking alive, as if blazing.

Harry swallowed saliva, and scratched his throat, and suddenly realised his hunger. He was ready to get up and leave the room, wanting to put some distance between him and the humans.

He didn’t manage to, and was met by Tom offering a bottle with red liquid by the time he stood up.

 

*    *    *

_Harry would have never expected for Sirius to have known Remus beforehand, yet the look of recognition in his friend and almost-family’s face when he presented Remus to him was undeniable._

_Judging by the wide-reaching grin that immediately formed upon seeing the man, it couldn’t be a bad thing. Not when Sirius had almost gone as many things as he had at the hands of the magical community and his own family. Not when he was still on the run for a crime he hadn’t committed. Ironic, considering that he had been accused of betraying and Harry’s own family._

_Sirius…” Remus said, small smile on his face, as he observed the man grinning before him. He was immediately pulled into a hug by the other man, and handed a blue pendant._

_Harry smiled. It couldn’t be a bad thing at all, not when meeting again brought the two of them such joy._

_He had never seen Remus smile as brightly as he was right now._

 

*    *    *

They had been a day away from Irkngthand when Harry had finally allowed himself to venture away from the easy conversations he had maintained with Tom throughout the day and ask what he had been wanting to know ever since the man had proposed to steal the Eyes of the Falmer. 

He had to admit that the question had been bothering him for a very long time, particularly considering how much Tom had been reading and re-reading certain sections in one of the black books he had. He knew for a fact that Tom wasn’t interested in selling the things, and if he had wanted to find and collect any ancient or valuable artefacts there were many different ways to go. Ways that wouldn’t involve or require entering dangerous ancient ruins.

What could possibly have attracted a man such as Tom Marvolo Riddle to the object? To his every question the human man had said nothing, and instead had smiled at Harry whilst giving him an easy answer.

Only the harshness that settled into Tom’s eyes every time Harry had asked revealed it as an obvious lie. 

He had only managed to catch a brief glance at one of the section’s titles, but he couldn’t say he had ever heard about such things before. He was curious, he had to admit. The black book, if the legends were correct, contained all manners of forbidden and secret knowledge, and Harry had never heard anything about horcruxes before.

 

*    *    *

 

It was only after some shared words whilst traveling through Irkngthand that Harry came to abruptly realise how at peace he felt, and how relaxed he had gotten around Tom. The thought getting him to immediately stare at the other wide-eyed, both amazed and confused. Surprise shaking him to his very centre. Tom made no sign of noticing Harry’s odd expression, though he knew he must have, reached for his bag, and moved to hand Harry a small bottle of blood.

Harry simply couldn’t understand the pains the man went through in order to ensure he had bottles of blood, or the fact that when asked about his reasons his only reply was a reference to how allowing Harry to hunt properly would mean a waste of valuable time.

Harry moved towards him and reached for the tiny bottle. He grinned, “thanks.”

Their fingers brushed once he had hold of bottle, the slight touch enough for him to be able to detect Tom’s heartbeat. Harry was surprised at how warm Tom’s hands are. How alive.

He knew Riddle was a charismatic manipulator and a likely daedra worshipper, but he still couldn’t make sense of the man.

 

*    *    *

The spell left his wand, and Harry immediately saw the creature, the falmer before him, exploding and damaging the rest of its surrounding kin. If he had known that there’d be this many of the creatures amongst the dwemer, magic-powered guardians and orbs he would have considered even agreeing to come with Tom.

It wasn’t just the near-constant vigilance and fighting that they had had to maintain ever since entering the ruins of Irkngthand, but also the stagnant, rot-like smell It had been bearable upon entering the ruins, but as they kept descending it kept growing mustier and stronger. Sickening and vile in every possible way, and grew only stronger and stronger despite the wide-reaching abandoned halls. Harry knew Tom had noticed it, he had a feeling that due to his own physical condition he was feeling it much stronger. 

The only thing worse than the smell had been the realisation that Tom’s supplies of bottled blood had run out a a few day’s back, forcing Harry to rely on the fallen creatures within the cave to feed.

It had been an unhappy choice to make, but one that Harry had made happily. No matter who his travelling companion was, what he had done, or the terms Albus Dumbledore had given him, Harry refused to feed from him.

He would not do it again, not after all the years of brutality he had endured and gone through. He was already enough of a monster.

Silence permeated half-ruined carved halls as Harry inched closer to the thing’s neck. Time seeming still. There were only bodies of the cursed creatures around him, each surrounded by rudimentary weapons of carved bone. The only sound in the air being that of slow-flowing water and a heartbeat. Tom’s. It sounded alive and strong, and Harry was reminded with each of its beats of the human blood that coursed through the wizard’s veins.

Harry stared closely at the thing. It was dead, or almost dead, at least. Body crumpled on the floor after having been hit by a particularly nasty spell that Tom had cast. Harry bit its neck, took a gulp, regretting it instantly.

The taste was disgusting.

He still remembered how that conversation had gone between them. ‘There is no way around it’, Tom had said.

Harry knew that it was true, but the logic and knowledge of the fact wasn’t helping making the vile liquid any more appealing. It was a minute until Harry pulled away, and he made sure to clean off the blood that had trailed down his face and onto his clothes to the best of his ability before getting up. He didn’t miss the look of amusement Tom sported.

He grimaced again, containing a shudder at the vile taste left over in his mouth. “After this is done, I don’t want to see any of these creatures ever again.”

Tom laughed.

 

*    *    *

The gilded double doors that had led them into the ruin’s sanctuary shut with a bang like that of an axe, and it took all of Harry’s efforts not to jump clean in the air even as he stared in awe at the hall before them. They had closed on their own upon their entrance, and Harry didn’t know what to think about that. He felt weary, and something told him to be vigilant. Dwemer ruins were known for their traps, and this one could hardly be the only one without them. Particularly in an area of such importance.

Despite this, Harry could barely contain his awe. It had been two days of walking through the ruins of Irkngthand before they had managed to reach their destination. The place’s very core – its sanctuary. Judging by the statue that now stood before them, Harry knew that all had been worth it.

“There it is,” Tom said, looking impressed and eyes wide with an interest that he rarely displayed.

The hall seemed to be in ruins, with machinery looking oddly similar to pipes protruding from the walls and ceiling amongst the broken stone. Strange plants grew out of every corner, besides the rudimentary-looking stairs that had managed to survive the pass of time.

And despite all of this, a grandiose statue of an elf – a snow elf as tall as the very hall – stood proudly in the middle of the room, legs crossed, holding a sceptre and a tome of stone.

“It’s beautiful,” breathed Harry, coming to a complete halt.

Its bronze stood clean and well-polished and whole. Jewelled eyes shining brightly despite the only light in the hall being that of the  _lumos_  of his wand. It looked ancient and powerful. A symbol of power that had outlived its own civilisation.

Tom looked almost reverently at the statue. “The snow elves were corrupted and became the falmer, with everything they built and knew collapsing and crumbling around them. Yet this statue is all that now remains.”

Everyone knew the story, of how the proud civilisation and culture had ended up collapsing and been ruined. How their own decisions and bargains had wound up turning on them, dooming them to torture and a particularly cruel fate.

It inspired reverence as much as it did thoughts.

“Ashes to ashes, and dust to dust,” Harry whispered, barely loud enough. His mouth twitched, his smile wry and sad.

Tom glanced at him with an unreadable expression, and only the increased heartbeat and changed smell showed Harry how the man really felt. He returned the smile with his own bitter one, “but avoidable in the end.”

Harry looked at him, thoughtful. He had never thought he’d ever see Tom showing signs of fear. Not when it seemed like the man had transcended and surpassed fear completely.

He decided to not think much on it.

Tom remained completely silent, and went back to looking at the bronze statue. Realising that nothing more would likely be said, Harry, shaking his head, took some steps forward. They’d have to climb the statue to get to the eyes, judging by its size.

This seemed to awake Tom, who started following Harry’s footsteps.

Harry looked back at him. “It’ll be easier if we each take one eye.”

The dark-haired human nodded, and Harry realised with wonder that the expensive wizard robes he had been wearing still seemed to be in perfect condition despite the days of travel through the ruins. 

Tom continued walking forward. “I’ll get the left,” and he jumped onto the statue’s leg. Doing the same, Harry readied some of his tools. Only really coming to realise how huge the gems were when he was finally holding one in his arms.

He had never really seen anything so beautiful. A strange thought formed quickly in his head, and he couldn’t help but give it a voice.

“I wonder if Meridia and the Divines have this same light.”

Tom glanced at him with a frown, not bothering to stop walking, and it went unanswered. He knew the wizard was versed enough in lore to understand the irony and meaning of what he had just asked.

Harry figured that he’d never have the chance to find out. The lady of Infinite Energies – the Gilster Witch – no matter how obscure a Daedric Prince, represented the energies of the living and hated all things undead.

Harry had given up his right for mercy many decades ago, back when he had first made the deal.

He knew it had saved his family and his friends, but the knowledge of the curse he had been burdened with soured the thought almost as the memory.

He hadn’t been tricked, after all; Harry had gotten exactly what he had asked for. He had long fallen from grace, and knew only his way in the darkness.

Tom only spoke again by the time they had almost exited the carved path that led out of the Irkngthand sanctuary and into the mountain outside. By then the sun was shining high up in the sky, and they took the chance to set up camp within the very tunnel until night time, before they headed out of the ruins and left the place behind. Harry swore that he could still smell the falmer close by despite the fresh air, their sickening smell somehow lingering.

Harry looked at Tom as he opened his back and carefully stacked both of the white jewels they had just taken into his back. He knows that Riddle won’t sell them, even if it was likely that neither of them would ever see an item with more historical and monetary worth than the two jewels.

It wasn’t not something that bothered Harry in any particular way, money and gold wasn’t something that would solve his problems anytime soon. He already knew what would, but he couldn’t help but wonder whatever it was that Tom was planning to do with the two famous gems.

“A new addition to a collection?” he asked with a growing smile, leaning down on one of the sleeping bags they had been using all throughout.

No overly noticeable drafts of wind were entering the tunnel, and the resulting lack of a fire had meant that their sleeping bags had been placed quite close together. Harry had an unprecedented view of the human man.

Tom kept rummaging through his bag and pulled out a book, and didn’t look up at Harry until a few moments later. He gave an easy smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes, voice tranquil and easy. “A part of a magic experiment I’ve wanted to try.”

Harry hummed, and silence descended around them. A few long moments went by before Riddle looked at him again and asked Harry if he had any other matters or jobs to deal with elsewhere.

“You’ve been useful, more so than any other person I’ve gone into ruins with” he explained, “and the main reason why I asked you to accompany me just ended.”

Harry smiled sweetly, choosing to just shake his head by way of an answer. Tom’s expression lit up immediately, and he saw the beginning of a smile on his lips. He wasn’t prepared for Tom’s next words, explaining his next destiny, and couldn’t help but be shocked.

“Shalidor’s Maze.”

He had heard about the location before, but had never heard anything about it besides its name or the fact that it was located at the Labyrinthian, the ancient Nord city, and incredibly close to Morthal. It was a mystery; one he had heard about in relation to a few strange stories about. His response is immediate, and Tom smiles gently, his features brightening.

Harry waited a few hours before going ahead and casting a  _patronus_  to deliver a message, but only after Riddle had visibly fallen asleep. Harry only watched as the familiar stag left, and couldn’t help but briefly wonder if the strange knot in his stomach was some sort of strange guilt.

He looked at Tom, face more relaxed than he had ever seen, and pushed the feeling down.  _‘I need my mortality back.’_

It never went away.

 

*    *    *

 

They found a corpse hanging from a tree on the path that led away from Irkngthand and near an abandoned fortress, its face charred beyond all recognition. Carved on the tree from which it hanged, was the Silver Hand’s symbol.

Harry didn’t pay it much attention until he recognized a familiar blue pendant hanging from the corpse’s neck. It was Remus.

He fell onto his knees, and choked a sob.

Tom just remained standing besides him, silent, and Harry couldn’t help but to be grateful for the other’s silent companionship as he cried his heart out.

  

*    *    *

_Sometimes Harry was certain that Remus loved Sirius, just as sometimes Harry was certain that Sirius loved Remus in turn._

_Despite this, he only watched as the two danced around each other. Hinting and talking without ever taking a further step._

_Sometimes Harry wondered if the reason Remus didn’t go further was because of the lycanthropy he had been cursed with, or if the reason Sirius didn’t was because of having failed to save his friend from it all those years back._

_Still, Remus never took off the pendant that Sirius had given him._

 

*    *    *

“You never did say, Harry, how many years have you been alive?”

Harry stopped in his tracks at the somewhat, and he couldn’t help but stare oddly from the middle of the room they had booked at Morthal’s Moorside Inn. He had been caught completely by surprise. 

The room had twin beds and its wooden walls looked aged, giving the impression of the room being smaller than what it actually was. One of the windows showed a distant view of lake around which Morthal was constructed, as well as of part of the now-crowded streets. There was a slight mist outside, but the weather seemed mild aside from that, with no evident strong winds.

“I’ve never said,” came his immediately response, “why would you want to know?”

Tom sat on his bed and faced him, face unreadable except for a flicker of curiosity in his eyes.

“I’m curious – vampires are blessed with a long life, and you don’t seem like a newly infected person.”

Harry smiled grimly, “a long life that isn’t quite the blessing one could expect.”

He had meant it as something that would force the conversation to end, but instead it visibly roused more Tom’s curiosity. Mask flickering and falling for a few seconds.

“You’ve been alive for more than a few years then?”

Harry barked a laugh, and decided to continue walking towards his bed, he needed time to think. “That’s one way of putting it.”

“Whether you’ve been alive for decades or not, I don’t enjoy being laughed at,” Tom sneered.

Harry smiled, “Of course not, it wasn’t my intention.” He paused for a bit in order to prepare his following words, noticing the intensely curious stare Tom was directing at him. “I’ve been alive long enough to have been able to see the events in Daggerfall, Morrowind, and Oblivion.”

Harry paused, and took the chance to lie down. “Or ,at least those of Daggerfall and Oblivion. I can’t claim to have been in Morrowind at the time of the death of Dagoth Ur, only after its fall.” He hadn’t thought about any of those in years, having accepted or grown used to the thought of having seen the events that had been momentous. He still remembered the devastation that had hit Morrowind, he’d at least admit that.

Tom looked visibly impressed, though his eyes slightly dark and assessing, “over a hundred years.”

He nodded, and continued. “I was born in Daggerfall – it’s the only reason why I was able to see the events that took place there,” he then clarified.

His mother, his father, his childhood friends… Their faces were now but a vague and somewhat fuzzy collection of memories that he could barely recalled. Had they wept for him? He did not know.

Harry could still remember the gently-smiling faces of his family before their capture, though, and the way Lily and James had taught him control over his magic. Chocolate frogs and games. Ginny’s sweet embraces and ever-present beauty, and the way she would manage to stand tall, beautiful, and proud wherever she went. His friends and family’s distance after Harry was granted his wish. Ginny finally coming to distance herself only a few months later, claiming that Harry had changed too much as a person. How the simpler life he had once lived had completely disappeared with one wish.

It had hurt to even think about it, but time had granted him a strange stony remembrance. None remained to remember except him.

“I got infected soon afterwards,” Harry then finished saying after some moments of silence.

 Harry could practically see the word ‘vampires’ crawl through Tom’s head, and he looked up at the ceiling and stared. A grim smile found its way onto his lips.

“No, not vampires,” he whispered, startling the other.

Tom visibly frowned, and waited for him to continue.

“My family was attacked and captured. I just barely managed to summon a Daedric Prince,” he continued. Harry honestly didn’t remember much about what had happened then, except for an eternity of floating plains and meadows, and the sing-song voice with which the Daedra had spoken to him then. “I wanted to get out of them alive and save them, so I struck a deal. Clavicus Vile agreed, and gave me the power I needed to get there out of there.”

He had only later learnt about the nature of Clavicus Vile, and the way the wishes he granted often came to turn out.

Tom took a breath and looked away with something akin understanding. “For what it’s worth,” he started saying, voice almost rough in its earnestness, “I am sorry.”

Lips parting, Harry turned to stare at him, a strange feeling blossoming in his chest.

“Don’t be,” Harry whispered, not being able to keep a slight sharpness from his voice, “I asked for what I was granted.”

Silence settled around them, and Harry looked with a passive curiosity as he saw Tom reach and take out a black book. Hermaeus Mora’s.

It sparked a thought, and Harry could barely contain the question as it crossed his mind, “you’re looking for something specific in there, aren’t you?”

Tom looked up at him, reaching out to the locket that hanged from his neck with one of his hands, and flashed him a subdued and slightly unsettling smile. “Legend says that the deepest secrets of magic lie with Hermaeus Mora.”

 _Suitably cryptic’._ Harry only nodded, despite the intense curiosity burning within him.

 

*    *    *

_Carnage surrounded Harry, vengeance reclaimed, yet Sirius still didn’t wake up or so much as move from where he had fallen. The arrows that had hit him were still deeply embedded, the wounds they had caused bleeding._

_There was nothing to do, and nothing that could be done._

_Remus collapsed onto his knees, and Harry could only think back to the only time he had seen the two of them kiss._

 

*    *    *

The Labyrinthian loomed before them, standing tall and proud at the top of the mountain where it had been set millennia before. It’s an ancient Nord city, or it used to be, and despite the end of the era in which dragons and their priests had ruled the land it still stood tall and proud, if a bit worn down. Seeming as much an insult or prophecy as the snow elf statue in Irkngthand, and Harry couldn’t help but be reminded of a certain stone statue of a king, which despite prophesying eternal power and warning visitors to beware, was covered in sand.

Stone paths cover the entire area, making the city seem as stone-clad as Markath or Windhelm are. Even from the distance it was easy to tell that they lead to everywhere in the city as well as out of it. To the peaks surrounding the Labyrinthian as well as to the ancient buildings, and to the dominating structure that once must have been a temple. There were archways overseeing each of these stone paths, making it eerie in its probable emptiness despite its similarity to a living city.

It was mostly silent except for the sound of the wind and of a few birds chirping despite the late time - spring was around the corner - and Harry can’t help but welcome the few signs of life as they keep advancing towards the looming structure.

Tom was silent, too, looking at the path ahead and advancing as if automatically. The path to the Labyrinthian was worn and old, some parts of it barely having any stone. Reaching only upwards, upwards, upwards. Into the high peaks that surround the structure.

The Labyrinthian overlooked them, strange and old, and Harry wasn’t sure what to make of the slight headache which had settled in his head, the sweat on his hands, or the knot in his throat as he looked at it.

He had seen other similar ruins before, but perhaps this was the first Nord one of this age that he had ever seen like this. He knew the stories, and perhaps that was it. All people knew of how draugr walked the halls of ancient Nord structures, cursing them with their every step, and all knew as well of how these creatures had been created to be commanded by other very similar beings of incredible power. The dragon priests that in the days of old, when dragons had ruled the earth, had worshipped the beasts and been gifted inhuman levels of power in return.

He knew their names, of course: Krosis, Morokei, Nahkriin, Vokun…

It was at the High Temple at the Labyrinthian where the highest ranking had once met, if he wasn’t wrong, and Harry didn’t exactly know how to feel about that. His long life had started to mess with his mind, and Harry didn’t know whether he would like to see one as it arose from its slumber or whether he would rather avoid the things entirely.

Perhaps even that didn’t make much sense and was slightly ironic, considering he was technically as undead as they were thanks to a similar gift of power.

As they reached the border and beginning of the ancient city ruins, a stone archway preceded by two monolith-like stones on each side greets them. Each bearing an inscription that seems as foreboding as the statue at Irkngthand had.

                         _‘Hail All - Brave City Bromjunaar,_

_Forever These Walls Shall Stand_

_May enemies See Her Majesty_

_May All Quake to Behold Her’._

Harry breathed out shakily, his breath trailing thin ribbons of dragon-like smoke in the air. He felt cold, colder than usual, and nervous despite the foreboding knowledge of what was to come. Tom was looking at the inscription, and Harry can’t help but notice how near-reverent he seems to be. Looking up, he felt an irrational feeling blossoming in his chest.  _‘I wish it would rain’_.

Rain was honest, predictable. Yet the night remains clear, with the two moons visible and bright, mocking.

He breathed in, ‘ _it all serves a greater purpose’_ , and took a step forward. His first into the gigantic stone structure, and he couldn’t help but be grateful for the more maintained stone paths that cover the ancient city. Tom followed, and it took Harry a second to realise that he didn’t know where Shalidor’s maze was located in all of this. Paths branch off in all directions - north, east, and south - and Harry knew that he advanced carelessly he would likely come to get lost. He looked back at Tom, who was now examining his surroundings with an air of meticulousness and precision.

The question must have been obvious in Harry’s eyes, since the man immediately turned to look at him and nodded, signaling Harry to follow him.

They started walking around the Labyrinthian at a quick pace, which was somehow mostly deserted and devoid of any wild creatures. Harry didn’t quite know what to make of that, but counted it as luck as they explored. He knew, from what Tom had explained, that the Maze-structure Shalidor had made would be a challenge.

It was only hours later, when the night was about the come to an end, when they finally came to find a wooden door that, by the looks of it, took them into the entrance of what they had been searching all along. At its top it had a faded and worn inscription, which though barely readable, was visible just enough to make out the words,  _Shalidor’s Maze’._

Harry hadn’t expected the sight that greeted them upon entering to be what seemed to be a half-torn passageway, with must have seen use when the ruins had last been occupied. They advanced through them, Harry being glad for their amplitude and the remaining roof covering them, until they reached a wider area, which looked like a set of fortified walls, each naturally leading forward through open gates. Tall, carved statued guarded these open gates, each adorned with intrincate designs and standing over four meters tall. A small garden, and then an open area surrounded by tall walls and mountain peaks, with the entrance to the maze in front of them.

There was a charred body at the very centre, lying on a circular structure with a patterned design of circles within. Harry got closer, “a note,” he breathed, surprised.

He reached to get it, not really caring about the charred remains. He picked the note, and quickly examined it once Tom was standing behind him.

                         _‘Enter Twice - Exit Only Once._

_Alteration will lead you to Destruction._

_Only Illusion shows the way to Restoration._

_Conjure not, but be conjured instead.’_

Harry turned to look at Tom, “it’s clear then.”

Tom just nodded, and they headed into the maze. Making it quite far rather quickly, and only finding a few wild animals within it. The maze was quite strange, and rather than twisted and confusing turns it only was a continuous passage with unlocked gates at burrowed into the ground. If Tom found it strange, he said nothing.

At its end was a huge, circular trap door which lead only down into what looked to be like some sort of passage. There were some wooden beams at the centre of the huge drop, the purpose in their placement clear. It was open, and Harry immediately felt dread. Tom turned to look at him, and it was then when they heard it: a rhythmical clinking sound, like that of metal on rock.

Harry frowned and looked at it. He had a sneaking suspicion that he knew what it was.

_Clink_

_Clink. Clink._

It seemed to be coming from the inside of the passageway below, ricocheted from within, and Harry suddenly wished that they had never made it this far. Tom turned to examine the passageway, and Harry immediately knew what to do.

“I’ll go look, it’s probably nothing,” and Tom looked at him as if he were mad.

Leaping down, he scurried across the wooden beams and strategically fell, Tom following him soon afterwards after consideration. Harry mentally preparing himself for what awaited them down there, barely managing to land on his feet by the time he reached the bottom.

_Clink_

_Clink. Clink._

Harry saw one foot in the corridor to which the passage led, and then another and another. Then the figures of some armored men, and behind them those of three familiar wizards, covered in familiar robes. They were at least ten, and they noticed him immediately. It was dark, but bright enough that Harry managed to recognise who they were.

Tom landed, managing to do so in style and without falling, and Harry didn’t have a single moment to stop to catch his breath before the figures advanced towards them. He had barely managed to assess the situation before the armored men gripped their swords and the three wizards reached for their wands.

Tom took out his own and readied himself into a dueling stance, holding a deceptively loose grip on his wand.

He was furious, seething, the magic around him feeling volatile and violent.

It had already been a long time since Harry had managed to lay eyes on them, and he was surprised to notice them recognising him.

“Well done, my boy,” the centre figure said, voice genial and calm and kind. Harry knew it could only be directed to him.

Their identity was more than clear: Dumbledore, along with the other two wizards that he had seen in Winterhold, McGonagall and Moody.

The mercenaries advanced, and Tom observed at them as they circled them, eyes betraying nothing as the magic around him turned more violent with anger. Harry didn’t move, and instead remaining still as the scene unfolded before him.

Tom spoke, and when he did he did so with a strange calm voice that sent a chill down Harry’s spine. “You’re a fool to attempt this, old man,” he was still observing everyone around him. “You know you cannot defeat me.”

Dumbledore looked slightly saddened at this, “you’ve done terrible things, Tom, my boy.”

Tom seemed to hiss at the man’s use of his name.

“So you finally seek to kill me, Dumbledore?” called Tom, his dark eyes narrowing. “Not above such brutality anymore, are you?”

“We both know there are other ways of destroying a man, Tom.” Dumbledore said calmly.

Tom gave lopsided and cruel smile, “it won’t last.” The man that Harry knew as Moody seemed to deflate upon hearing this.

Dumbledore looked at Tom with pity, “merely taking your life would not serve any purpose, I admit -”

“There is nothing worse than death, Dumbledore!” Tom snarled.

“And you are quite wrong, my boy” said Dumbledore, “and your failure to understand that there are indeed worse things than death has always been your greatest weakness.” He was visibly calm, as if they were discussing the matter over food or drink, the man’s very demeanor making him feel a mild panic.

The woman by Dumbledore’s side, ‘ _McGonagall’_ Harry reminded himself, lifted her hand as way of a signal. The mercenaries immediately started closing in around them.  _‘Around Tom,’_ as Harry immediately noticed.

Tom just turned to look at Harry, and his smile had changed into a more familiar crooked grin by the time their eyes met.

“Yes, Harry, you are released here and forevermore. The job is completed,” he muttered. His gaze never left Harry. “But you’ll take your prize, will you not? My head, like you always wanted… You need your mortality back.”

A strangled cry broke free from Harry’s mouth as he realized that Tom knew, that Tom had always known the true reason why he had entered his house in Dawnstar and accompanied him across Skyrim.

The woman to Dumbledore’s side then gave a final signal, and the mercenaries closed in around them.

Then, a second, and bright coloured lights lit the darkened passageway, as pink gave way to purple, blue, and a bright telltale green. The mercenaries hadn’t even managed to advance on them, on Tom, before he had sent spells their way with the speed and viciousness of a snake. The men crumpled onto the floor, some dead and some in what was obvious unbearable pain.

Tom breathed out, slowly, closed his eyes, and started readying himself into a dueling position slightly different from he one he had adopted before. He breathed in, and turned to face away the three shocked wizards with a mocking sneer. He bowed, holding a deceptively loose grip on his wand again, keeping his face upturned to Dumbledore.

Harry still hadn’t moved, and was now standing directly behind Tom. The darkened passage was starting to clear up, and Harry was suddenly faced with the knowledge that it’d be daytime. The aged arch mage returned Tom’s gesture and bowed, the two others soon following behind. The mercenaries were still lying dead on the floor, the few still alive in pain, and for the first time in his life Harry wasn’t quite sure of what to do.

Dumbledore briefly looked at him and nodded, a kind smile settling on his features as if by way of saying thanks. Then, silence, before there a burst of energy filled the room that broke the existing peace.

Tom moved snake-like across the passage, pointing his wand at one of the three wizards, McGonagall, and sending off a spell that lights the hall red. She easily deflected it, but by then Tom had shifted his position so that he only had a wall behind him.

An  _expeliarmus_  was sent Tom’s way, together with two other spells that Harry didn’t quite manage to hear.

Red again, and then blue. Dumbledore still looked calm, even with the only sound in the room being that of magic being cast.

Dumbledore muttered something under his breath, and red lit the room yet again. Tom dodged it, and cast a familiar green spell.

Dumbledore managed to move away in the brink of time, and it crashed into the wall behind him. Moody cast another  _expeliarmus_  and McGonagall started inscribing some runes onto the floor.

Harry recognized only two of the runes inscribed, with the meaning  _‘to bind’_.

Tom looked at the action from the corner of an eye, and cast two quick spells in succession. Only one manages to hit McGonagall, with the sudden bad-looking gash that appeared on her breaking off her writing. Abandoning the runes, she got up and quickly cast another spell.

The duel didn’t slow down, and the only time it started to do so - when Moody and McGonagall seemed to have started falling behind due to the spell that had hit them, Harry could feel that the sun had already risen high up into the sky.

By then Tom was at the centre of the room again, the duel having focused between him and Dumbledore and turned intense. Harry, standing to a side with only his wand in hand in case a stray spell wandered off and came close to hitting him.

Green and red. Harry quickly cast a  _protego_ as the air became charged, and only managed to observe in fascination as the familiar red started to push back the telltale green. Seconds crawled by.

One. Two. Three.

Tom sneered and managed to deflect it, making both spells hit the walls to the side. One barely just brushing past Harry.

Dumbledore seemed to start concentrating and muttering something under his breath - a longer spell - and Tom hissed out the words for a curse of his own under his breath. McGonagall and Moody were completely out of the duel by now.

The spells were cast, and they crash against each other with surprising intensity. Dumbledore’s expression remained as calm as before, whilst Tom’s had morphed into one of evident hatred.

Then, the tensing of a bow, and Harry just barely managed to see one of the mercenaries that had collapsed in pain shooting it. Neither wizard notices the telltale  _twang_  as the arrow was shot into the air and directly at Tom.

Harry attempted to quickly cast a spell to deflect it. It failed, and before he could even think he had jumped in the way of the arrow.

The duel came to a sudden and surprised stop, and Harry feels himself crashing onto the ground, pushed back by the projectile’s force. His actions dawning on him only after he saw the arrow that now was deeply embedded into his side.

All of the wizards in the room turned to look at him, and Harry’s blood started flowing onto the stone floor.

The pain hit him, sharp and incisive, and he couldn’t avoid wincing. Harry closed his eyes briefly, trying to manage the pain, and by the time he looked up at the now completely still wizards, he saw Tom looking utterly shocked and Dumbledore mirroring the younger man’s expression.

“Why…” Tom muttered, and Harry knew the other wouldn’t fully manage to get the words out. If he was honest with himself, he didn’t quite understand why either.

“My dear boy,” Dumbledore said, echoing the question. The man looked betrayed, and Harry couldn’t help being surprised at how he both felt guilty and justified at his actions.

Perhaps it’d be better that way.

The distraction was gone in a few seconds, and though Dumbledore still seemed to be distracted, Moody had already started muttering the beginnings of a spell.

_‘Perhaps, it is better this way’._

Harry reached up and quickly lunged at Tom, even though barely managed to get himself off the floor.

The decision was made, and there was no going back. Harry was faced with Dumbledore’s shocked expression as he collided with Tom’s hip. Managing just enough concentration to apparate them both.

He heard a shout and felt Tom’s body tense up. Then, twisting and falling, and when he felt them both arrive at the first location that had crossed his mind there is only darkness.

 

*    *    *

_Dawnguard members lied crumpled on the ground, dead due to their own honor and willingness to sacrifice themselves. He was covered in blood, as was Remus, who was standing still besides him._

_Harry could feel his heart breaking at the atrocity he had been forced to commit in order to save his life._

_"Let’s go to Winterhold, Harry.”_

_He had doubted the werewolf’s words on the power of the arch mage at Winterhold all that time ago, but he wasn’t sure for how much longer he could go on._

_“Let’s,” Harry agreed._

_He still felt the blood on him hours after cleaning it off._

 

*    *    *

When Harry awoke the Labyrinthian was nowhere in sight, and he found himself lying atop some furs within a tent, at the edge of a forest. A fire blazed outside of it, casting light on the snow covering the forest floor and revealing a further nearby lake, but not managing to light up the darkness beyond. He felt bandages wrapped tightly around his lower abdomen.

Harry rose and attempted to stand up. He could see the familiar silhouette of Tom Marvolo Riddle sitting close to the fire, and felt a sudden pang of worry.

Better to leave and get out before the man noticed him, he didn’t know how the other would react after what had happened.

His knees wobbled, and he was forced to grab hold of one of the wooden beams holding up the tent to avoid falling. He felt tired, exhausted. Apparating, particularly long distances, always took its toll out on him. He didn’t do it often, it left him weak for too long periods of time, and he had never wanted to risk being picked off in a weak state. This time, however, he was sure the arrow wound was making it worse.

He collapsed back onto the furs, and felt his limbs shake at the effort,  _‘looks like I won’t be able to move at all’_. His breath was ragged, and Harry couldn’t help but to close his eyes. Why did the wound hurt so much? When he opened his eyes again Tom was standing in front of him, body blocking the only exit out of the fur tent, face unreadable.

“I wouldn’t move if I were you, the wound will open,” he deadpanned.

Harry laughed grimly, “I’m a vampire, it’ll likely do nothing to me. In a day or two you’ll be able to have me out of your sight.”

Tom just stared at him in silence, expression betraying no emotions, and sat down atop one of the other furs covering the ground beneath the tent.

“Why did you stop the arrow?” Tom asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Harry shook his head and smiled. There was a strange glint in his eye, something between confusion and curiosity, and he couldn’t help but to be surprised at seeing it there. “I’m not sure,” he said, “but you never once harmed me. You could have killed me from the second you saw me in your house, and everything would have remained like it was, and I wouldn’t have been a problem.”

Tom snorted, in the cool night air it was possible to see the twin puffs of air that rose up in the air, “why would have I done that? One rarely gets to see a vampire so close by and for that long, they tend to keep to their clans and never go out.” He frowned, “besides, if you had turned on me and attacked me I would have easily killed you.”

Harry laughed at the man’s reply, and saw Tom look slightly offended at the action. He interrupted him before he could voice his offense at the way Harry had laughed.

“It’s only fair,” he said with a smile. “Would you have managed to do so even if I had attacked you with Albus Dumbledore and the others in the room?”

A sneer quickly found its way onto Tom's lips. “The old man is a fool, I could easily finish him.”

Harry laughed again, but he knew that the other was being completely serious. “Is that why you still asked me to accompany you into those ruins? Irkngthand and the Labyrinthian?”

Tom hummed in affirmation and smirked, “the presence of another person also makes traveling through those easier.”

Harry supposed that much was true, though he honestly doubted Tom would have need of any help even in falmer, draugr, or inferi-infested ruins. “And the objects? I know you’re not going to sell any of what you took from Irkngthand.” Outside, the wind started howling, and the fire flickered beneath its strength.

Tom sighed, leaning forwards, “a part of an experiment I intend to carry out.”

Harry’s mind was suddenly brought back to the skin-covered leather book, and the multiplicity of black tomes he had seen the other read. A word immediately formed in his mind. “Horcruxes?” he asked. Tom just stared at him in total silence, face unreadable, and that was the only fact that told Harry he was right.

Harry sighed and leaned into the furs, “what do those do, anyways? I’ll admit that I’ve never heard even a reference.”

Tom looked away, and everything was silent for the few minutes that it took him to reply. However, when he did, he only gave a slightly cryptic answer.

“There is nothing worse than death, or more terrifying. I’ve taken steps to avoid it.”

Harry was surprised yet again. “I don’t understand that, I think immortality would be a curse” he said softly, voice barely audible.

Tom looked as if he were about to stand up and leave the tent, “you wished for something and were tricked by a daedra.”

Harry barked a bitter laugh, and looked away, “still, I mean it.”

Tom’s response came immediately, “it’s been my only fear since I grew up in Riften. What that place showed me-’

“You grew up in Riften?” Harry interrupted, honestly surprised.

Tom took a few seconds to reply, and Harry didn’t miss the brief look of hatred that flashed across his eyes. “A long time ago, in the orphanage.”

Harry’s bitter smile faded away, and couldn’t help the feeling of pity that blossomed in his chest. Supposing it explained many of the things he had observed about Tom. He said nothing, however, and allowed them both to descend into a slightly uncomfortable silence.

“Back then I discovered that I was a wizard, and magic became everything to me. I couldn’t allow death to take it away.”

Harry had a feeling the other had said that without really thinking, but he looked back at Tom with a smile. It was an experience that mirrored his own. “I felt the same thing when I discovered I was a wizard, back when I was eleven,” he started saying.

Tom’s head perked up with interest.

“Back before I made the deal and I was cursed, it got me away from the house I had been living in with my aunt and uncle. It became everything I had, it was what allowed me to be finally meet my parents after many years of being kept away from them.” He paused, not really sure or caring about why he was offering the information, “though I can’t say that I ever feared death, even before I asked to be cursed.”

Silence descended between them again, though this time it was peaceful and comfortable. After some moments Harry stiffened, and he slowly raised himself and turned until he was directly in front of Tom, who stared at him with unreadable dark eyes.

He had really gotten comfortable around him, hadn’t he?

“You knew what I wanted when I first found you… if you already knew what I had come to do, why did you not kill me, or at the very least avoid traveling with me?”

He upwards, as if remembering. “You made me wonder what the old man could be planning. I thought I could steal away and deprive him of another one of his puppets,” he shifted the position of his legs, as if to sit more comfortably. “And your presence was different, it intrigued me, no one had managed to find the trap door and recognise the books I had there” Tom hummed, “you were an anomaly.”

Harry shook his head, “I’m a normal person, just Harry.”

Tom looked at him intensively, and the other’s expression at what he had just said told him that the other man couldn’t disagree more. Harry looked out of the fur tent. It seemed like daytime would arrive relatively soon.

“Daytime will arrive soon, I should move,” he said, worriedly. He had a growing feeling that it had been a bit over two days since he had last had any blood, and he wasn’t sure he’d survive even the slightest sunshine in the state he was now.

Tom smiled cordially, “there is a cave nearby, we can move into it quickly.

Harry was about to reply when the other suddenly got up and started moving some of the things out of the tent and into the nearby cave. Harry just barely managed to walk into it, and practically crawled himself onto the first set of furs that he saw. Moments of cordial silence went by.

Tom looked haunted. “You gave up on a cure for your vampirism when you aparated me, I know Dumbledore would have found something.”

Harry shook his head, laughed lightly, and felt fully comfortable with what he was about to say. “It would have made me a monster. I wouldn’t have been able to live past that, not when you had never harmed me.”

Tom looked surprised, and Harry just allowed him to relax into the furs. The wind was still blowing quite strongly outside, and he was grateful for the fire Tom had lit again.

Maybe everything would be alright. Being a monster was a matter of choice, after all.

Harry inched closer to Tom.


End file.
